The cornfields rise above mankind, Lifting white torches to the blue, Each season not ashamed to be Magnificently decked for you. What right have you to call them yours, And in brute lust of riches burn Without some radiant penance wrought, Some beautiful, devout return? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SPIRES OF OXFORD by WINIFRED MARY LETTS BIVOUAC ON A MOUNTAIN SIDE by WALT WHITMAN AN EPILOGUE TO THE STEALING OF DIONYSOS: IACHOS SPEAKING by GORDON BOTTOMLEY PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON by ROBERT BROWNING THE WAKE OF TIM O'HARA (SEVEN DIALS) by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN TO ALEX. CUNNINGHAM, WRITER by ROBERT BURNS |